


A Guiding Darkness

by MagnaVictoria (Meaninglessness)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Relationships, Dark Lord Harry Potter, Death, Gen, Implied Relationships, Implied Slash, Reincarnated Harry, Reincarnation, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 18:21:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9197747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meaninglessness/pseuds/MagnaVictoria
Summary: Boredom can actually make people do very weird things, really. After who knows how long of feeling so numb, waking up as Tom Riddle is going to change things. Fate really does have a weird sense of humor. Harry reincarnated as Tom Riddle, Dark Lord Harry.Imported from FFNDON'T EXPECT UPDATES (i'm sorry)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So... This is a soon-to-be slightly edited version of one of my very first fanfics and my most popular fanfic, A Guiding Darkness. I'm prob going to get that name changed...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is reincarnated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Current Date 1938 September 1
> 
> Canon Characters: (Birth Dates mostly not Confirmed, most Years Confirmed)
> 
> Tom Riddle - Age Eleven (1926 December 31) First Year - HB
> 
> Wulburga Black - Age Thirteen (1925 May 4) Third Year - PB
> 
> Orion Black - Age Ten (1929 September 13) Pre-Hogwarts - PB
> 
> Dorea Black - Age Seventeen (1920 November 8) Seventh Year - PB
> 
> Alphard Black - Age Eleven (1927 January 9) First Year - PB
> 
> Lucretia Black - Age Twelve (1925 October 23) Second Year - PB
> 
> Abraxas Malfoy - Age Eleven (1927 February 24) First Year - PB
> 
> Charlus Potter - Age Seventeen (1920 September 22) Seventh Year - PB
> 
> Septimus Weasley - Age Seventeen (1921 January 12) Seventh Year - PB
> 
> Ignatius Prewett - Age Fourteen (1924 March 18) Fourth Year - PB
> 
> Antonin Dolohov - Age Twelve (1926 June 26) Second Year - HB
> 
> Igor Karkaroff - Age Nine (1929 March 30) Pre-Hogwarts - HB
> 
> Algie Longbottom - Age Sixteen (1922 August 16) Sixth Year - PB
> 
> Eileen Prince - Age Eleven (1927 November 17) First Year - PB
> 
> Lyall Lupin - Age Nine (1929 October 10) Pre-Hogwarts - HB
> 
> Myrtle Portland - Age Nine (1929 April 18) Pre-Hogwarts - MB
> 
> Olive Hornby - Age Ten (1928 August 31) Pre-Hogwarts - HB
> 
> Fenrir Greyback - Age Seven (1931 May 21) Pre-Hogwarts - HB
> 
> Rubeus Hagrid - Age Nine (1928 December 6) Pre-Hogwarts - HB
> 
> Original Characters:
> 
> Nero Jugson - Age Fifteen (1924 November 25) Fifth Year - PB
> 
> Nathaniel Parkinson - Age Thirteen (1925 April 2) Third Year - PB
> 
> Cassius Lestrange - Age Eleven (1927 January 8) First Year - PB
> 
> Eleanor Selwyn - Age Nineteen (1919 September 1) Post-Hogwarts - PB
> 
> Glenwood Selwyn - Age Fifteen (1923 February 10) Fifth Year - PB
> 
> Nara Nott - Age Sixteen (1921 September 27) Sixth Year - PB
> 
> Romulus Nott - Age Eleven (1927 June 17) First Year - PB
> 
> Settia Umbridge - Age Eleven (1927 July 1) First Year - PB
> 
> William Pettigrew - Age Twelve (1926 June 30) Second Year - HB
> 
> Lupa Rookwood - Age Eleven (1927 March 12) First Year - PB
> 
> Silas Rookwood - Age Fourteen (1924 May 11) Fourth Year - PB
> 
> Lycoris Rowle - Age Nine (1930 October 14) Pre-Hogwarts - PB
> 
> Celandine Brown - Age Thirteen (1925 February 3) Third Year - PB
> 
> Polaris Yaxley - Age Fourteen (1924 June 20) Fourth Year - PB
> 
> Samuel Greengrass - Age Thirteen (1925 May 31) Third Year - PB
> 
> Pericles Avery - Age Twelve (1925 November 7) Second Year - PB
> 
> Katherine Turner - Age Eleven (1927 March 28) First Year - MB
> 
> Luke Thompson - Age Eleven (1927 August 13) First Year - MB
> 
> Valerius Bulstrode - Age Sixteen (1922 July 16) Sixth Year - PB
> 
> Caesar Carrow - Age Seventeen (1922 February 25) Seventh Year - PB
> 
> Thane Rosier - Age Eleven (1927 April 10) First Year - PB
> 
> Aftonio Mulciber - Age Eleven (1926 September 20) First Year - PB

"Tom... Tom Marvolo Riddle..."

_What's that?_

"Tom... After his father..."

_I've been born again._

"And.. Marvolo after his grandfather..."

_Who am I now?_

"Tom Marvolo Riddle..."

_Tom... Riddle? Wait. I know that name..._

"Please... Take care of him..."

_No way..._

"For me..."

_I'm Riddle!?_

"Please..."

_I'm Lord-fucking-Voldemort!?_

* * *

Mrs. Cole was a stern woman. She was the matron of Wool's orphanage, an ordinary orphanage with ordinary children. There were quite a lot of children in the orphanage, most of them only stayed for a few years before getting adopted though. The adoption rate was quite high and many children were able to find a stable home quickly. However, not all of the children were that lucky and the ones that stayed for the longest often thought highly of themselves, becoming tyrants or bullies. Mrs. Cole was not one to tolerate these kind of children and made sure to stamp out this kind of behavior quickly. She didn't tolerate hostile and arrogant children in her orphanage and never would.

And that's why she always kept a look out for this one child: Tom Riddle.

Tom Marvolo Riddle had been in the orphanage all his life. In fact, he was the only child to have been born here.

Tom was a genius, the cleverest child she had ever seen. When he was young, he wasn't like the other children. He never made a fuss and rarely cried as a baby. When he was old enough, he began to help with the chores, always working hard and smiling. The adults all adored him. However, the children easily got jealous and poor Tom became the victim of bullying. Fortunately, Tom always seemed able of defending himself or getting away rather easily. Unfortunately, as time went on, Tom became more and more aloof. He would spend his time staring out of the window with a conflicted expression on his face. When anyone would attempt to bully him, they always ended up being the ones running for cover. Despite still being polite to the adults, Tom became cold and detached as well. And his behavior worried Mrs. Cole.

What was making him behave this way? Why did he change? She had so many questions, but her way of scolding Tom, trying to get him to open up only pushed him away. The older children began calling him names, behind his back, of course and the staff began to worry when everyone who had thought of adopting him changed their minds and expressed fear or disgust to the very idea.

There was still one small saving grace that connected the new Tom with the old Tom though. It was the way he treated the younger and newer children. They all seemed to adore him, look up to him, be set on pleasing him. Tom would often humor them, play with them, and they grew to have a sort of hero-worship towards the young boy. Tom was, indeed, a very charming boy.

"Tom?" Mrs. Cole asked, raising an eyebrow at the eccentrically dressed man sitting in front of her. "You're here to offer him a place at your school?"

"That's correct, Mrs. Cole," the man - Dumbledore or something - replied.

"What school's this, then?"

"It's called Hogwarts."

"And... Why is it Tom that you're interested in then?"

"I believe he has the qualities that we're looking for."

"A scholarship? How come? He's never entered in one before..." the teacher opened his mouth to speak, but Mrs. Cole carried on before he could. "Then again, I can understand why you'd be interested in him. Tom is such a sweet boy, after all. Hard working, eager to help, all the younger kids love him. Not only that, but he's a genius. the cleverest boy I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. Very polite and charming, too. He never gives us any trouble, no."

"Is that so? Can you tell me a bit more about Mr. Riddle then? His history and how he came to the orphanage? I do believe he was born here."

"Oh yes," Mrs. Cole leveled a suspicious look at the Professor. "I remember the day Tom was born as if it were yesterday. It was New Year's Eve and a girl who couldn't have been much older than I was at the time came staggering in. It was a nasty night, snowing and deathly cold. We took her in, of course, but she died not longer after she had the baby."

"Did she say anything before she died? About the boy's father perhaps?" The professor pressed for details.

"Well," Mrs. Cole narrowed her eyes, "She said that she hoped he looked like his father. She was right to hope. I won't lie, she wasn't a very pretty thing. But Tom, Tom grew up to be a very charming young man. He was named Tom after his father, apparently, and Marvolo after his grandfather. An... unusual name, but that's the only unusual thing about him."

"Oh? Nothing unusual happened while he was here?"

"No, of course not! Unless you mean the boy's intelligence; he's an absolute prodigy at everything he does!" Mrs. Cole boasted.

"Great! So, can you take me to see young Tom, now?"

"Of course, come with me." Mrs. Cole stood up, the oddly dressed professor standing, too. She took the professor out from her office and up the stone stairs, yelling out instructions and admonishments towards children and helpers they passed. Eventually, they stopped at a door and Mrs. Cole knocked on the door and entered, but the room turned out to be empty. "Oh. He must be in the library then..." she muttered turning back and leading the professor down the hall. Opening the door at the very end, she went inside to see a group of young children sitting around a chair in the center of the room. They were surrounded by dull bookcases and a young boy was perched on the chair, reading out loud to the children. "Tom," Mrs. Cole called, making all the children look up at her, "You have a visitor. Professor Dumbledore is here to talk to you."

"Oh?" Tom raised an eyebrow and his gaze flickered from Mrs. Cole to the professor. "I'll be right over." The children 'aw'ed in sync as Tom put down the book and gave them a small smile. "Don't worry. I'll keep reading to you once I'm done, okay?" The children immediately nodded and Tom's smile disappeared as he walked over towards the two adults.

* * *

Dumbledore wasn't sure what to think of young Tom Marvolo Riddle. being the only wizard in a muggle orphanage, odd things should have happened around him that he couldn't explain. So, naturally, Dumbledore was confused when the matron said nothing unusual had happened around Tom. He was also curious about the young wizard. From what he had been told by the matron, Tom was like the perfect little angel, a genius, good at everything he does. The child was too perfect to be real.

He entered the room, following Tom, and watched as Tom walked over to his bed, sitting down gracefully, a polite smile on his face. "What can I do for you, professor?"

"Well, Tom," he began, smiling and twinkling at the young boy, "I'm here to introduce you to our school, Hogwarts."

Tom raised an eyebrow at him. "And what makes you think I want to be... introduced?"

Dumbledore smiled wider. "Our school is a very unique school, you see. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is a place for children like you. Those that can do magic."

"Magic?" came the skeptical reply.

"Yes, magic. You're a wizard, Tom."

Tom's face twitched as if he was trying hard to suppress a laugh or smirk. His eyes gleamed with what seemed to be unnerved amusement before they cleared of all emotion again. "Really. And you are one, too?" He seemed to be bored as he sat, relaxed, on the bed.

"Yes."

"Prove it."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at the demanding words. "If, as I take it, you are accepting your place at-"

"Yes, yes I am," Tom said impatiently, waving a hand for Dumbledore to get on with it.

Dumbledore nodded. "Very well. You should address me as 'Professor' or 'Sir' then, if that is the case."

Tom gave a half-smile, almost mocking in nature. "Of course, Professor Dumbledore. Can you prove that you're a wizard then, sir?"

Dumbledore gave a small nod and a beaming smile before taking out his wand and flicking it to levitate Tom's bed. Tom jolted with surprise, emotions flickering through his eyes too fast to read. "Er... Can you put me down now, sir?" Dumbledore did as told. Too his surprise though, there was no awe or shock in Tom's gaze when he looked back at the professor. Maybe a little amusement though. "So... Where do I go get school supplies, supposing that I'll need things like that...?"

"In Diagon Alley. I have a list of school supplies and books with me and can help you find everything you need. The school also has a fund for orphans, so there is no need to worry about money." Dumbledore took out a bag of money and held it out to Tom.

"Sir, there is no need for you to accompany me. I am perfectly fine in doing everything myself. Can you tell me how to get to Diagon Alley, sir?" Tom smiled disarmingly and took the bag with a gracious nod.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." Tom smiled again and listened carefully as Dumbledore told him how to get into Diagon Alley.

"Any other details are in the envelope," Dumbledore added, handing Tom an envelope, "There is also a ticket for the train to Hogwarts in there."

"Thank you, sir," Tom said, taking the envelope and opening it with curiosity.

"I must go now, Tom," the professor muttered, standing and stretching out a hand for Tom to shake. "I can't wait to see you at Hogwarts, Tom." Tom dropped his letter to shake hands with Dumbledore.

"And I you, sir."

Dumbledore took another curious look at the boy and gauged his magical potential. It was rather ordinary. All in all, Tom Riddle seemed to be the ordinary muggle-born student if it weren't for two things: his lack of awe, and his stunning appearance that could rival a veela's in beauty. "See you soon," he said, letting go of the hand and watching the polite smile bloom on that face, the face with unearthly beauty. And with a last nod, he left.

* * *

Abraxas Malfoy was excited. Why? Because today was the day he was going to go to Diagon Alley for his school supplies for his first year at Hogwarts. Of course, he kept a calm, dignified composure and kept himself from showing his excitement on his face. He wouldn't be caught dead bouncing around like some commoner. He was a Malfoy and Malfoys were above that.

He felt his chest swell with pride as he and his family walked down the street. The people gawked and parted for them, knowing very well that they were Malfoys. After all, Malfoys were known for their beauty, power and prestige. Abraxas knew that he was just as stunning as all the other Malfoys. Platinum blonde hair and grey eyes, the symbol of being a Malfoy. People often wondered if they had veela blood in them, but, that wasn't true. It was just their natural beauty.

"Abraxas, dear. We'll go and get your books and potion supplies. Why don't you go off and get your robes, wand and anything else you'll need for school?" his mother asked, turning to face him.

"Of course, mother."

"You have two hours to explore, Abraxas. Be sure to be back at the Leaky Cauldron by then," his father added, giving him a pouch of money. The pouch was, of course, magical and linked to his personal vault so that he could shop to his heart's desire. Abraxas smiled and left for Olivander's as his parents went off towards the bookstore.

When he got there, he realized that that was already someone inside that Olivander was catering to. He pushed the door open and went in, hearing the bell chime.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy," came the voice of the wand maker. Abraxas looked up to see him put a wand into the hands of the other customer before quickly snatching it away again. To his ire, the boy didn't even look up at him. "Just a moment. Let me finish finding the perfect wand for Mr. Riddle here."

Riddle? Abraxas sneered at the name. That boy must be a mudblood then since there wasn't a pureblood family with the name Riddle. No wonder the boy hadn't looked up at hearing his name. Apparently, the boy seemed to notice Abraxas' hostility because he suddenly spoke.

"Mr. Olivander, I tire of this. Just give me the Yew and Phoenix Feather wand, 13 and a half inches. I do believe that the feather was given by a phoenix called Fawkes."

Both Olivander and Abraxas blinked, surprised, before Olivander complied with the order, for that was what it was, an order. Riddle took the wand and gave it a wave, conjuring a snake before banishing it without a word. Abraxas gaped at the display of magical prowess while Olivander just smiled. "Ah yes, that seems to be the wand for you. You will do-"

"Great things... I know," Riddle replied, making Olivander beam at him. This snapped Abraxas out of his stupor and his closed his mouth quickly.

"I wish you luck on your chosen path this time. It's very different from what you've chosen before..." Olivander said cryptically. Riddle just turned away, now facing Abraxas. Abraxas took one look at Riddle and couldn't help but gape again. Riddle... was stunning and Abraxas couldn't help but feel that Riddle's beauty far surpassed his own. The boy had an unearthly beauty to him with his dark locks and green eyes. His robes, Abraxas now realized, were made of the finest materials.

As Riddle walked past him, he paused and looked up before giving a smirk. "Close your mouth, Bad Faith, or you'll be adding flies to your diet." With that, Riddle walked out.

Abraxas felt his cheeks heating up and he snapped his mouth shut, fuming. Bad Faith? How dare that mudblood...

He could barely hear what Olivander was saying as he was paired with a wand. He could only think of getting that mudblood back for his attitude. "Elm, 18 inches, Dragon Heartstring, Mr. Malfoy. That'll be eight Galleons" Abraxas nodded towards Olivander and payed before walking outside, his good mood ruined by that arrogant little mudblood. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down, and walked towards Magical Menagerie to find the perfect pet.

He pushed open the door and immediately went to the owl section. Owl's were always very useful, after all. He frowned, expecting the shop assistant or owner to come running over to cater to him. He was a Malfoy after all. Looking up, he suddenly realized why no one had payed any attention to him. The staff were trying, futilely, to convince a six foot snake to get off the mudblood boy from before.

He smirked cruelly. Served that mudblood right.

However, when Riddle turned so that Abraxas could see his face, he realized that Riddle's face was the embodiment of calmness with, perhaps, a hint of exasperation. He didn't seem to mind the six foot snake at all. "I'm fine. There's no need to fuss. I think she likes me. What do you think of the name Nagini, dear?" Riddle's voice floated over towards him. The snake hissed excitedly, making the staff of the shop cringe back in fear as it reared up, snapping its jaws. "Great. I'm sure we'll get along marvelously..."

"Sir, a-are you sure about that snake? She is one of the most dangerous snakes in existence..."

"She likes me. See? She hasn't eaten me yet. Plus, I think I can handle her if I've handled a basilisk before," Riddle said with a chuckle as the snake snapped at the shop owner. "Now, can I have her?"

"Yes yes! Free of charge! You can have her!" the shop owner squeaked as the snake got closer and bared its fangs. Riddle smiled sweetly and whipped out his wand and Abraxas was suddenly grateful that he was in a relatively dark and unseen corner of the shop, but he wished that there were more people in here.

" _Obliviate!_ "

The two adults became dazed as the memory altering spell hit them and Riddle sighed before walking towards the entrance. Abraxas held his breath, freezing in place and hoping that Riddle wouldn't notice him. However, luck was not on his side. Riddle paused at the door. "Bad Faith," he addressed the Malfoy heir, making Abraxas tense up, "I hope that I won't have to Obliviate you, too." His snake - Nagini - stared at him and flickered its tongue out, hissing something at her master. "No, Nagini. You may not eat him." And then, Riddle shrunk her, hid her, and left.

Abraxas unfroze as the shop owner and staff suddenly came to their senses, realizing he was there, and started fussing over him.

Could Riddle really... talk to snakes?

* * *

Harry sighed as he boarded the bus that would take him back to the orphanage. This - all that had happened - was highly confusing. Meeting Nagini was a stroke of luck and he was glad to have something that was part of his previous life, even if that something was the pet of his former archenemy. Then again, he himself was now said archenemy. Being a Dark Lord-to-be was highly irritating and tiring.

And just when he thought he had found a way to kill himself, he gets reincarnated. And, ironically, reincarnated as his former archenemy who was obsessed with finding a way to be immortal. Well, he had long accepted the fact that he was technically immortal and that everyone else would die some time or later.

He had always wanted a normal life, but it seemed that Fate was determined to not give him the joy of having a normal life. He himself, it seemed, was also determined on getting some action. It just didn't feel right for him to have a normal life any more. In fact, the very thought unnerved him.

If he was immortal, well, he might as well have some fun, right? So, being a Dark Lord was something new and entertaining, wasn't it? That... did not sound right. There was definitely something wrong with that sentence... It sounded like something Death would tell him. He frowned a little.

Looking up at his stop, Harry quickly got off the bus and walked back to the orphanage, his hand clenched around his shrunken trunk and supplies.

He just hoped that he was prepared to be a Dark Lord. There was no backing out, after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Train to Hogwarts

Harry watched the fabric of his robes ripple as he smoothed his hand down them, pausing at the bump that was Nagini sleeping and wrapped tightly around his waist.

The robes had cost quite a lot and he was lucky that he had spent so much time in the Chamber of Secrets previously. Enough time to find the instructions on how to access the Slytherin vault. That was the only reason he was able to afford the robes. While the price had barely put a dent in his fortune of this life, he had less in the Slytherin family vault than he did in the Potter one in his previous life. Quite a significant amount less, in fact. Really, he wouldn't even have bothered with the high class robes if he didn't have to, but considering who he was and what he was going to do in this life, he needed them, if only to flaunt his wealth and lineage.

His gait was smooth, confident and graceful as he walked across the Platform from the apparation area. Tom was naturally graceful, the elegance ingrained in the very nature of his body. And Harry was rather glad for that. He didn't think he could pull off such a walk with his old body.

He ignored the stares and turned heads that followed him as he walked, knowing that the aura he had built around him would command attention and respect despite his small stature. While he usually hated attention and learned how to not draw attention to himself, this time he would need to draw attention to himself. Even as he kept his eyes straight ahead, he could see the people turning to look at him with awe, jealousy, admiration and lust, from women and men alike.

His face was a mask of indifference with the slightest bits of interest and curiosity as he regarded the red stream engine he was approaching. In reality though, he was thrumming with anticipation, his mind a mess from the nostalgia and longing and pain that came with seeing the Hogwarts Express. And even though these emotions were dulled and distant, he still took a moment to organize his thoughts before stepping onto the train.

Quickly finding an empty compartment, Harry settled himself inside, next to the window. He took out a book as he got comfortable, slinging one leg over the other, resting his elbow against the windowsill as he propped up his chin with the palm of his hand. He took out a shrunk book inside his pocket and, with a wandless, wordless spell, unshrunk it and began to read.

Or, at least, he pretended to begin to read. His long lashes hid his careful examination of the people on the platform as he watched more and more people was rather glad that arrived early, actually. Then he wouldn't be among the suffocating crowd of people. The people he didn't truly belong with. He wouldn't feel more alone than he already did.

Harry knew that he wasn't a part of their lovely group and knew he would never be. He had always been different. He had never belonged. He wasn't the same as those that had tearful farewells and hugged their families goodbye. He wasn't the same as the high classed children that exchanged dignified adieus with their parents, promising to write in that nonchalant way that hid so many emotions. He wasn't like the boisterous kids that happily laughed as they went off with their friends, glad to get away from their parents. He wasn't even like the wide eyed orphans and muggleborns, that were too filled with awe to be nervous, already separated from their families.

He hid a grimace at the thought. But, however unpleasant it was, it was true.

In his first life, even after he joined the magic world, he was different. He was signaled out by Voldemort and later became the Master of Death. And wasn't that a horrible thing to be. He thought that he could, at least, die a normal death like everyone else, but no. He was Harry bloody Potter and he wasn't anything if not abnormal.

Harry banished the thoughts behind a mental wall and continued people watching, or, more specifically, he continued to search for possible allies. He could the dear Malfoy heir with his parents. The boy was staring at him, apparently having seen him walk through before. He was exchanging farewells with his parents and all three were glancing at him. They weren't too far away from him, but far enough so that only the people nearest to them could see where they were glancing at. They were standing with some others who looked like... Blacks.

Harry almost gave himself away, unprepared for the wave of emotion that hit him. There was... One boy that looked awfully like Sirius. It was Sirius, just much, much younger. The boy looked around ten, but not old enough to be going to Hogwarts just yet. Orion Black. And beside him stood Walburga Black in all her young glory. She was really pretty and Harry wondered what turned her into the vulture she had been in Grimmuald Place.

He looked up fully and made eye contact with the Malfoy heir. He stiffened, eyes betraying his apprehension and Harry knew that the boy had snitched. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head up, a slight sneer of disdain on his face. The Malfoy tensed further. Harry appraised him further before dismissing him as unimportant. His eyes travelled over each Black purposefully before moving to the rest of the platform.

Then he returned his eyes to his book, actually reading this time, as he turned a page of _Secret of the Bloodline Traits_ , but staying well aware of his surroundings, too. It was carefully disguised as a Transfiguration textbook, detailing subjects that should be well above his understanding.

* * *

Abraxas was feeling a lot of emotions in that one moment. Annoyance was the most prominent though, anxiety a close second, partially from being dismissed so easily by Riddle and partially because no one believed him when he told them about a parselmouth. Even now, his friend, Alphard Black, was still sniggering.

"You really are an idiot, 'Braxas. A parselmouth? It isn't possible. Think, 'Brax. When's the last time someone with that trait appeared before? Not in a century."

"Alphard, maintain some decorum!" Walburga scolded from next to her parents, making her brother roll his eyes. "Anyways, I wouldn't dismiss the possibility so easily, dear brother. Who knows? Plus," she made a pair of gooey eyes at the sky. "He was handsome and so great looking... He's probably the perfect pureblood heir..."

Orion, Abraxas and Alphard all made a face at that, though Lucretia and Dorea giggled slightly. "Yes, he sure was graceful, like a veela," Lucretia added, "He walked so confidently and had that aura if power around him."

"If only I were a bit younger and not in love with dear Charlus I would go after him, definitely," Lucretia commented.

"And if he really was a parselmouth, that would just make it all the better..." Walburga continued. "He was so dreamy... Did you see him look out of the window at us with that cool, calculated gaze?" The three girls giggled. "Although..." Walburga raised an eyebrow at Abraxas, "what did you do? He looked at you as if you were scum."

"I think he didn't want me telling anyone that he was a parselmouth."

Orion suddenly frowned, remembering something. "Wait a moment. Didn't you say his name was Riddle?"

A sudden sneer came across Walburga's face. "A _mudblood_? Urg. Never mind what I just said. That's disgusting. You must be an idiot to think that... That... _Thing_ could speak to snakes!"

Lucretia frowned. "And you say he talked down to you?"

"We should teach that mudblood a lesson about respecting his betters."

Abraxas suddenly felt a lot more secure. He had people to back him up, and Riddle? He had no one. Despite Riddle's display of magical prowess before, there was no way he could hold up to their pure blood circle of people.

"Children," Irma Black spoke up from the 'Adult Group'. "It's time to get on the train. Wait any longer and it'll leave without you."

There was a chorus of "Bye, mother,"s and "Bye, father,"s before children walked off as a group to board the train, Orion the only one left behind, pouting.

* * *

By the time the train had left the station, Abraxas was in his own little cliche with children his own age. Meaning, a group of second and first years which included Abraxas, Alphard Black, Cassius Lestrange, Aftonio Rosier, Rylan Mulciber, Romulus Nott, Antonin Dolohov, and Pericles Avery. The talk about Riddle had also spread among them and none of them were even close to feeling any positive feeling towards the young boy. In fact, they had come up with schemes to torment him.

Abraxas had left their compartment with Cassius, Pericles and Alphard to see if they could find another empty compartment. Having just one was a bit too much of a tight fit. While walking through the Slytherin section of the train, Abraxas caught sight of a very familiar head of black curls.

Riddle was there, lounging alone in his compartment and reading an advanced transfiguration book. He didn't notice he had paused until Alphard spoke. "'Braxas, what did you see?" The other four approached and looked into the compartment window."Now, how did we miss this? Riddle sitting there with a compartment all to himself."

Abraxas suddenly had a very bad feeling and something told him that the only reason he had noticed the compartment while the others had missed it was because of Riddle. He banished the thought as soon as it formed. That was impossible.

"So that's Riddle?" Cassius asked, "I have to say he honestly does look like a pureblood. With a pretty face, too."

"So... Are we going in and kicking him out or what? He can't have that compartment all to himself," Pericles interrupted.

"Right," Abraxas agreed, steeling himself. He would get Riddle back for humiliating him.

Stepping forwards, he threw the door open and sneered. Riddle looked up, eyes traveling over the four intruders, before putting down his book and smirking lazily. "Why, Hello there, Bad Faith. I was wondering when you'd come over and you even, unexpectedly, brought friends. I am flattered indeed."

Abraxas scowled at what he had been called. Cassius stepped forwards, sneering. "Shut it mudblood. We shou-"

"'We should really teach you a lesson about how to speak to your betters' was what you were going to say, right?" Riddle interrupted, an eyebrow raised.

Cassius blinked in shock, flinching back. "How-?"

"- did I know what you were going to say?" Riddle interrupted once more, examining his nails in a bored manner. "You all really are very predictable, especially to someone like me that has Intuitive Aptitude." Abraxas frowned in confusion and an exasperated sigh came from the only seated member of the compartment. "Intuitive Aptitude is a blood trait that allows the user to easily gain an understanding of something complex without further study or education. It usually only appears in the descendents of Rowena Ravenclaw, but I'm a special case," the boy explained. "Of course, the ability itself is so broad that it's impossible for a single person to possess the full potential of it lest their brain is overloaded by information and they become a vegetable."

For a while, the four purebloods were struck speechless. None of them had heard of anything like that before.

"Th-that's bullshit," Pericles eventually stuttered out.

Riddle raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" He lifted his book up and the cover rippled, morphing from _Advanced Transfiguration_ to an old, battered book called _Secret of the Bloodline Traits_. "The only reason most people don't know about Bloodline Traits is because most Bloodline Traits are unnoticeable, most are sub-sections of the Intuitive Aptitude abilities and most are very, very weak. The only Bloodline Trait that is well know is Parseltongue. If Slytherin had one, then it would make sense that the other founders had their own, no?" Riddle asked rhetorically. "I thought you were all purebloods, but, look here; you were beaten by this so called mudblood when it came to knowledge about your own abilities and culture."

If they hadn't been struck speechless at the display of wandless magic, Abraxas was certain that this explanation would have done it. He was already beginning to regret coming in here and confronting Riddle. It seemed that he would be safer on Riddle's side of the playing board instead of his own side. Despite being faced with four trained and hostile wizards, Riddle seemed utterly relaxed and confident that he could handle anything thrown his way. And, if that display of wandless magic was any indication, he could. Beside him, he saw Cassius narrow his eyes, a calculating look in them and Abraxas knew that they had come to the same conclusion: Riddle was not one to be trifled with.

Unfortunately for Pericles (Alphard was always too laid back and accepting for showing violence or superiority to others), he wasn't so smart. Growling in outrage, the boy drew his wand and shot out a _Bombarda_. What was he thinking? A spell like that in a place like this? But with a wave of Riddle's hand, a shield materialized and absorbed the destructive attack. Pericles was stunned and Alphard let out a choked laugh of shock. The other two had already though that something this might happen and didn't react except for the slight widening of eyes.

"Is that all you got? That's pathetic..." And before they knew what was happening, Pericles was throw from the compartment by an invisible hand, crumpling in an unconscious heap in the hallway. The three remaining looked back at the relaxed and utterly unfazed boy in disbelief. They hadn't even seen him move. "Anyways, is there anything else you wanted? No? Well then, get out. I want a word with Bad Faith. Alone preferably." And with that, the same invisible force shoved Alphard and Cassius outside and slammed the door shut, pulling down the blinds.

Abraxas swallowed nervously as Riddle's gaze focused on him and he tensed unconsciously. He didn't understand how this one mudblood could be so powerful... But wait. What if he wasn't a mudblood? There was evidence contrary after all. Didn't he have a conversation with that snake, Nagini? What if... What if this boy really was the descendent of Salazar Slytherin? That would make sense as to why he was so powerful...

"You know," Abraxas was jolted back into the present by the melodic voice of the Slytherin descendent. "I was going teach you a lesson about not snitching..." Abraxas tensed further. "But... You've just brought me some amusement. So, instead, I'll reward you." Apprehensive, Abraxas looked into the dark eyes of the other boy and only barely caught the book that was thrown towards him. "Careful," Riddle cautioned, sounding amused, "I took that book from Salazar's personal vault. It's very, very rare and probably one of the last copies that still exists. You may borrow it, but don't damage it, lose it or give it to anyone else." Abraxas looked at the cover and saw that it was the very book Riddle had just been reading. The cover rippled to become _Advanced Transfiguration_ again, but the contents of the book stayed the same. "I will know... I expect you to return it in the same condition I gave it to you or else... Well, let's just say that Nagini gets hungry... A lot."

The Malfoy heir wasn't sure what to feel at that moment. He had just escaped what seemed to be a horrible fate and was instead given a book so rare it was virtually unheard of. He could detect no lie coming from Riddle. So, if what the other said was true, Riddle was the heir of Slytherin and the book the young Malfoy currently held in his hands came from Salazar Slytherin's _personal_ vault. Not family vault, _personal_ vault. He was feeling giddy and fearful all at once because, truth to be told, he was fucking terrified of what the other could do to him. But... Abraxas closed his eyes slightly as he felt for the magic crackling in the air, the magic that had poured out of the young boy in front of him as soon as they were alone.

It was so powerful, so oppressing, that Abraxas felt like groveling at the boy's feet. He felt a sudden high at being singled out by the boy's magic. It was _him_ in Riddle's presence and not anyone else. Riddle was a... He would become a... Dark Lord. Yes, Abraxas could feel it as clear as day and he would prove that his name didn't define him by becoming Riddle's most faithful.

"Do you understand, _Abraxas_?" The voice asked softly. And, almost unconsciously, Abraxas gave his reply.

" _Yes, My Lord..._ "

* * *

If Harry had to be honest, it completely unnerved him when the Malfoy heir had replied to his question. The boy's eyes became unfocused and hazy as if experiencing extreme pleasure and he had shuddered before answering with utmost devotion, fear, respect and admiration in his voice. Harry had know that his magic had some sort of effect on other people, but he never realized how strong the effects would've been at full power. The children at the orphanage had been affected at a much lesser degree, able to sense the power around him. But, while the elder ones cowered or grew jealous, the younger ones could do nothing but look up to him.

He had long become desensitized to the guilt he would feel at his actions. After fighting so many wars, killing so many people, you begin to understand on a subconscious level that there were no real rules in the world of the living and that the rules people made couldn't truly be enforced. It was, in reality, a dog eat dog world and no matter how good he might be, he would have to break the fragile rules in order to protect who he wanted to.

He shuddered again. If Voldemort could relish in looks like that, then the Dark Lord really was crazy or maybe just very, very narcissistic.

Anyhow, he guessed that he had better get used to it if he were really going to go through with this whole thing. The becoming a Dark Lord plan was actually working wuite well. He already had his first follower.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sorting and settling in...

Harry took a deep breath, smiling softly as he felt the sense of peace and calm wash over him. The sense of being detached from his body was still present, but much more pleasant. Before, when he sunk into this state which he randomly called 'Soul Finding', he would just feel frustration and confusion. It had changed dramatically. He could visualize his core, this glowing ball of light that lazily drifted around.

Really, all he was doing was meditating like people did when they used Occulemency to find a sense of calm. Except, he was going deeper. Past his mind and into his soul, something that had become easy for him with the whole Master of Death thing going on. Even now, he could still feel the three Hallows' presences, buzzing at the edge of his soul.

Apparently, he was correct to assume that becoming a Dark Lord would be amusing to Them. In fact, it was even taking the boredom from his mind, where the heavy and unmoving emotion had settled. It had numbed him, but this rush of something right at the thought of being a Dark Lord was clearing away the almost painful apathy.

His eyes opened once more as he slowly came back into his body, feeling heavy and burdened all of a sudden. He knew the feeling would go away, but it always happened after his Soul Finding sessions.

He really needed to give that technique a better name...

Harry's eyes went to the window. It was dark outside the Hogwarts Express and he could guess that they were going to arrive soon.

Ah, Hogwarts. He felt a warm, tingly feeling, thinking of his one and only true home.

The train was slowing down now, arriving at the Hogsmeade Station. Harry couldn't wait. He felt unusually giddy for some reason and his magic sparked in excitement.

_You're getting warmer, little Master..._

* * *

Hogwarts.

Abraxas felt giddy as he left the train with his friends, though he hid it well. He had heard so many things about this place from his older friends and his parents. He couldn't wait to go to the magical castle and every step he took felt like a year of waiting. He wanted to get there _now_. Why did the crowd have to be so damn _slow_?

"First years, this way!" A voice called out over the din of noise. He quickly went in that direction, his friends following obediently, chatting like the children they were.

"Lucrecia told me that we have to fight a dragon to be sorted!"

"I think it would be some sort of test... I wonder what spells I'd need to know."

"Idiots," he cut in, "Of course it's going to be something to test our personalities, not our abilities."

"Yeah? What makes you say that?"

"Because everyone knows that Gryffindors are reckless idiots, Ravenclaws are bookworms, Hufflepuffs are meek and Slytherins are cunning and ambitious. If that's not being sorted by personality, then what could it be sorted by?" Abraxas replied haughtily. "Plus, if weak mudbloods can get in, then it obviously isn't a test of worth."

Abraxas felt smug as his friends all made noises of agreement. Yes, he was going to be at the top, just as his father was before him, at the top of the Slytherin hierarchy.

Suddenly, he remembered Riddle and his smugness dissipated. Riddle had... His magic had felt...

Abraxas suppressed a shudder as that same magic and power ghosted over his skin. His eyes were drawn to the source and he saw the head of midnight black locks that belonged to Riddle. He noticed that he wasn't the only one affected though. Everyone seemed drawn to the boy and many people were looking towards him, subconsciously stealing glances towards him. Even his friends were affected. However, no one except him knew the truth to this power, no one but him was aware.

He felt that smugness rise again as his thoughts went to the book he had been given. Riddle had singled him out, _him_. Then, he mercilessly crushed that smugness. He could think clearly now, without that magic adding his brain, yet he was still acting like some sort of dog, searching for his master's approval. How disgusting...

But he could not deny that Riddle was like the meaning of power and magic.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to not be in control for once.

Riddle was powerful, Abraxas knew even before the other had let the complete wrath of his magic out. Abraxas had just been in denial. He had always been rather sensitive to magical auras, after all, and this perpetual aura of strength and regality rivaled the benevolent aura Dumbledore projected in its power. And Riddle was only eleven...

If Abraxas were to serve anyone, it would be Riddle. He was sure that the boy was a descendent of Slytherin, because he couldn't be a Mudblood. It was impossible. He had made his decision...

Abruptly, the magic began to retreat, coiling back around its source tightly and people took less notice of it. Abraxas had to fight the urge to chase the retreating magic as he was acutely aware of it still.

They were near the boats now and Abraxas hadn't even noticed he had stopped and was lagging behind.

"Oi, 'Braxas," Cassius elbowed him, bringing him back to the present. "What's with you?"

"It's nothing, Cass'." Abraxas shook his head slightly, then realized that Riddle was right behind them. He glanced back at the slightly shorter boy.

"Is it about Riddle?" Abraxas stiffened at the question. "What happened after... He so graciously escorted us out?" Goddamnit, Cassius! Riddle was _right behind them_!

"... Nothing important..."

"Really?" Came the sarcastic reply of his friend. Cassius gave him an incredulous look. "And I guess he's totally not the reason you were spacing out?" Suddenly, Cassius gave him a teasing smirk. "What, did you fall in love at sight?" Abraxas looked at the other as if he were crazy and felt embarrassment creep up his neck when soft laughter reached his ears and he just _knew_ that Riddle could hear everything they were saying. "Oh wait, that wasn't the first time you met... But I never knew that you were interested in _men_ , 'Braxas. Aren't you a little too young for that? What would your mother say? Knowing her, she'd be incredibly disappointed that you won't be giving her grandchildren, you know? Unless someone can create some sort of male pregnancy potion or spell."

Abraxas resisted the urge to facepalm and ignored his friend as he got onto a boat, attempting to keep his composure as Riddle got on as well.

Cassius fell silent and Abraxas knew it was because he had noticed Riddle's presence. Riddle's potentially dangerous presence.

Abraxas felt annoyance as the girl opposite to them began babbling about something or another to Riddle. His annoyance turned to anger as the girl introduced herself as Katherine Turner. A Mudblood! His Lord shouldn't have to consort with filth like a that!

However, Riddle just smiled politely and answered her questions.

"I could barely believe it when I received my letter you know? I thought it was some sort of joke, but this is really real! My family was shocked you know? What about you, Tom?"

"I knew exactly what was going to happen. I had been waiting."

"Oh... So did you grow up in the Wizarding World? What was it like?"

"I grew up with muggles. I'm a half-blood... You are a muggleborn, right? Well, you should feel blessed that Magic chose you out of millions of others to manifest herself in."

"Chose?" The Mudblood was confused and Abraxas found himself just as confused. He knew that Riddle knew a lot, there was no denying that, more than he did even, about magic. He leaned forwards subtly, eager to hear more of what his Lord knew. His Lord's magic was out and about again, dancing over his skin, merely playing as opposed to the crushing force on the train or the lazy lingering when they were walking. Out of his peripheral vision, he could see Cassius, just as drawn to the magic and knowledge as he was, leaning forwards slightly as well.

Riddle's voice was amused when he next spoke, as if he knew they were just as eager to hear what he had to say. "Magic, She's a sentient being, you know? She exists everywhere and chooses those She wishes to bare Her gift. She's like God, or maybe closer to a primordial goddess, actually. She may not be omnipotent, but She's there and everything She does is for Her children. As Her first generation, you are one of the closest to Her. Unfortunately, your kind usually rejects too much of Her to be as close as you potential could be. You are different from your family, as your very being has been cleansed, blessed and empowered by Her. It's something that really only happens to Muggleborns, as Purebloods and Half-bloods already carry her essence by legacy, but will never have the potential the First Generation have. You are, after all, technically created by Magic Herself."

"Wow..." The Mudbl- Muggleborn breathed out in awe, face lighting up with wonder.

Abraxas could barely believe what he was hearing. He was rather conflicted. Muggleborns were from Muggles, after all, but what Riddle said sort of made sense. After all, where else would the magic in Muggleborns come from? If magic really was a sentient being, and what Riddle said was true, then a Muggleborn's magic would, essentially, be more pure than a Pureblood's. A Pureblood's magic would be from their parents while a Muggleborn's would have come from Magic Herself.

Abraxas was never stupid, no. He may have let his rage, pride and beliefs get in the way of his calm thinking before, but he wasn't like that. He was, in fact, very clever and, despite what most people thought about Purebloods from families like his, quite open minded when presented with something like this. A great Slytherin. He could logically think about new ideas and theories without dismissing them at once after realizing they contradicted with his own ideas. Plus, Riddle had earned his respect quite easily.

That was probably why he was taking what Riddle had suggested quite well. He knew that if he were Walburga or Pericles, he would have just whipped his wand out and attempted to curse Riddle into oblivion for even suggesting such an idea. Luckily, he had more logic and common sense than most people in the Wizarding World and, while he couldn't change his views that quickly, he was thankful that Riddle had given him this new view to think about. It did answer a lot of his questions he had as a child.

Next to him, Cassius had a slightly indignant, but pensive look on his face. He knew that the Lestrange was thinking about it as well. They were rather alike, after all.

Great Minds think alike and all. God forbid if Pericles actually did some thinking.

* * *

The Great Hall was just as stunning as he remembered it to be. Nearby, he could hear someone, a first year, whisper about the enchantments on the ceiling and thought about Hermione for one wistful moment before it disappeared. She had been such a bookworm...

Most of the first years were nervous, pale, small and he knew that he wasnt like that at all. Luckily, his magic made him a wall flower despite the fact that he stood out.

The Muggleborn he had met on the boat was looking around in awe, having lost track of where he went and Abraxas was looking nonchalant, though there was nervous energy thrumming underneath.

His eyes turned to the High Table. He didn't recognize any of the professors there except... Slughorn. He then turned his attention to Dumbledore, who had led them inside.

Dumbledore...

Harry's eyes narrowed as he watched the man unravel the scroll that bore their names.

He had forgotten about him. How could he have forgotten that he appeared to Dumbledore as an innocent Muggleborn? He might pose a serious problem to any and all plans that Harry would make. He made a frustrated sound.

As much as his old mentor was eccentric, he was also undeniably talented and observant. He had already given the older man a reason to be suspicious. His robes were of a quality an orphaned Muggleborn should not be able to buy.

Harry cursed his carelessness.

Seriously, how could he have forgotten?

"Black, Alphard!"

The name jolted Harry back to the present. Where had he heard that name before...?

"Slytherin!"

Sirius! That was it! It's Sirius' uncle!

Huh, Sirius' uncle Alphard went to Hogwarts at the same time as Tom? He didn't know that...

He remembered Sirius saying that Alphard had been nice to him despite everything, how Alphard supported him. If Sirius, who was quite prejudice against Slytherins (even his own family, no, especially that) had something good to say about Alphard, then it seemed that Alphard would be someone he would get along quite well with.

A sudden curiosity took hold of Harry and he turned his gaze on the seated students, trying to find something he could recognize. Maybe a flash of red hair or a messy black signature to the Potter family. His own Grandfather, or Ron's?

"Lestrange, Cassius!"

Lestrange... A flash of hatred went through him, but disappeared just as quickly.

"Slytherin!"

"Malfoy, Abraxas!"

Harry turned his attention back to the students being sorted. There hadn't been many Slytherins after Alphard, but Malfoy was sure to be one. He had to pay attention. They would be the closest to his influence, hard as they may be to sway... Lestrange was a interesting one though. He seemed a lot like Malfoy.

"Slytherin!"

As assumed. Harry watched the blonde stroll casually to the Slytherin table.

"Mulciber, Aftonio!"

Ah, another one. It seemed that most of the Slytherins were nearer to the end.

"Slytherin!"

Mulciber was wearing a grin as he walked.

"Nott, Romulus!"

Slytherin again?

"Ravenclaw!"

No? Interesting... Harry decided to keep an eye on that particular birdy.

"Prince, Eileen!"

Oh, wasn't that Snape's mother? Same sour look on her face and dark hair, but otherwise rather pretty, the big nose and grease must come from his father then.

"Slytherin!"

Wasn't Snape's father an abusive muggle?

"Riddle, Tom!"

That was him. Harry straightened his back from the lazy slouch he had, leaning against the wall. He threw back his shoulders and linked to the stool with all the grace and power he could muster, but kept a lazy, relaxed undertone to his walk. He had to make a good impression, after all. He kept his magic under tight control though, wary of Dumbledore. He'd prefer the man to think that he was an excellent actor and public speaker than an extremely powerful potential Dark Lord. Gracefully, he sat down on the stool and retrained his lazy posture as the hat fell on his head.

 _Ah, what's this here? I've sorted this mind before._ The voice of the Sorting Hat spoke into his mind. Harry didn't reply. He didn't jump, as the others had (no matter how subtle they were he had noticed anyways), either. _Not much of a talker, eh? These shield are strong... Your memories are beyond even my reach, but not your personality, so it's fine. You can't hide what you're like, after all. What are you, though? I have the vague impression of memories that do not belong to this time, this life. A necromancer who made sure he retained his memories before reincarnation? Or... Something more? Well, never mind that, let's get you sorted... Hm... You'd do well in any house. But I feel as if you wish for Slytherin. So... I'll just let you be in..._

"Slytherin!"

Harry allowed the smallest of smiles as he took the hat off, hearing the hat grumble about him being so unflappable. He gave the hat back to Dumbledore, giving a small smile in reply to the curious twinkle in those blue eyes. Then, he whipped around and swept to the Slytherin table, cloak doing an impressive imitation of Snape.

He was aware of the dismal amount of applause he had gotten, but it didn't bother him at all. Harry could see all the glares that the Slytherins were giving him and ignored their silent demands to stay the fuck away. Then he caught Malfoy's eye and the blonde glanced to the seat next to him at the end of the first year section of the table. Both Lestrange and Malfoy gave him small nods in acknowledgement and he couldn't resist the urge to chuckle when the hostile looks increased. Then, everyone began ignoring him in favor of the rest of the sorting.

"Rookwood, Lupa!"

A relation to Augustus Rookwood the DoM worker slash death Eater perhaps?

"Ravenclaw!"

The intelligence must run in the family.

"Rosier, Thane!"

Ah... Rosier...

"Gryffindor!"

... Really?

A couple of people in Slytherin snickered. Rosier was pouting and glaring at the hat, but then he shrugged, giving it back and made his way to the opposite side of the hall lazily before sitting and promptly falling asleep on the table.

Interesting.

"Thompson, Luke!"

Harry decided that he liked this Muggleborn as he watched said Muggleborn go and sit on the stool. He could see the power he held. He was very close to Magic. His magic was strong, pure, raw, but, unfortunately, uncontrolled.

"Gryffindor!"

He saw Malfoy give him a startled glance and new that Malfoy had noticed the magic in the Muggleborn.

"Turner, Katherine!"

Oh, it was the Muggleborn he had been talking to before. Already, her magic was much more alive.

"Hufflepuff!"

"Umbridge, Settia!"

Umbridge?! Urg, he could see the similarities between her and his fifth year teacher. Toad like with that sugary smile. Her entire countenance screamed 'fake', although it wasn't enough to cover up her nervousness. How ugly. Her magical strength was average at best, too. At least there was no pink.

"Slytherin!"

Just great. He now had to share a house with the toad. At least he wasn't a girl and didn't have to share a room with her.

He felt Nagini shift beneath his robes and poke her head out from his sleeve. Harry stroked her head, causing her to hiss appreciatively, as the headmaster stood up and talked, making announcements. He didn't pay too much attention and the headmaster didn't say much either, so the food appeared rather quickly.

Abraxas moved beside him as he talked with his friends, many of which were glaring at Harry, but Harry didn't even look up. Instead, he wandlessly layered a shield over his body which would deflect any spells sent at him back to their caster. Nagini flicked her tongue out and reared a little to look over the edge of the table at the food.

" _Master, I'm hungry!_ " She hissed, snapping her jaws slightly.

"Alright, alright, dear, I'll feed you..." He muttered at the snake. Nagini hissed excitedly in return and Harry speared some of the roast chicken on his knife and fed it to Nagini.

Nagini ate in a very peculiar way, Harry realized. She would snap her jaws around the knife and pull back, only taking some of the meat with her. Then proceed to repeat the action, tearing off minuscule parts, swallowing only when it was all in her jaws. He suddenly felt a gaze on him and looked up. Many of the first years and even second years, those that were sitting near him, were pale, staring at the large, elegant head of his snake. Malfoy had an expression of profound horror as if remember the threats Harry had made about Nagini eating him and many of the others were gaping.

"What?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow and continuing his stroking, only pausing when Nagini shot up and snatched half of the roast chicken away. He glanced towards the High table, glad when he realized that all the teachers that could see them were occupied. The gapers went a few shades paler when they saw how large Nagini really was. "Afraid of the little snake? Your own mascot? Your behavior isn't very Slytherin." His eyes flew to Settia Umbridge who seemed to have broken out of her trance, and gone to the verge of screaming. He quickly pointed at her, silencing her without a word just before she attempted to scream. He narrowed his eyes and hissed at her, "Keep your disgusting mouth shut. We don't want any trouble. After all, Slytherins should show a united front, shouldn't they? All of you though, your behavior is disgusting. Do you not know how to be composed? Or are you all Gryffindors who wear their hearts on their sleeves?" Many snapped their mouths shut and composed their expressions sat this, embarrassed, although their eyes were still wide with fright. Nagini wasn't helping, hissing viciously and snapping at people.

Malfoy swallowed heavily and turned away while Lestrange continued to eye Nagini apprehensively. They slowly began drawing the others into conversation again, attempting to give a semblance of normality and ignore the six foot snake. Many of them continued to glance over or be jittery for the remainder of the feast though.

Harry couldn't help the dark chuckle that escaped him.

Terrorizing people like this really was quite fun.

_It is, isn't it, little master?_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry asserts his power

"Slytherin is the outcast house," Nara Nott, the fifth year female prefect, said, halfway through her speech, "Our relationships with the other houses are less than amiable. This is why we must present a united front. All conflicts should be solved within the common room, away from prying eyes..."

Abraxas already knew this speech. His father had told him that it was more or less the same every year. A talk on how the Slytherin house works, the hierarchy, who one should defer to. His father also kept on emphasizing how he should seize control, be the best, since he was a Malfoy. So, Abraxas tuned it all out.

His eyes drifted towards Riddle.

Riddle's magic was still being restrained which irked Abraxas for some reason. The first years had given him a wide berth and only Abraxas and Cassius were even moderately close to him, Abraxas standing next to him and Cassius standing next to Abraxas. The older students were either ignoring Riddle or shooting him disdainful glances, but Riddle's expression was as cool as ice, no emotion visible.

His eyes then drifted towards the group of four sitting on the comfiest couches near the fireplace. They were at the top, Abraxas knew. The leader, Caesar Carrow, caught him looking and gave him a slight smile of acknowledgement before looking elsewhere.

Of course Abraxas would be acknowledged, he was a Malfoy. It was too bad that no one realized Riddle's power.

Oh well, that was too bad for them. It just gave him more of a chance to get his lord's favor. Unfortunately, supporting Riddle openly now would be social suicide, but it didn't mean that couldn't support the other in secret.

* * *

Cassius knew that his friend, Abaraxas, was infatuated with Riddle. It was obvious to anyone who had a brain that wouldn't go into denial which was, unfortunately, not as many as he would have liked in Slytherin.

After a few days of careful observation, Cassius could safely say that he, too, was drawn to that enigma.

With what he had seen, it was highly possible that Riddle was a Parselmouth. His snake, Nagini, followed him absolutely everywhere, and even the craziest of wizards wouldn't be able to control such a dangerous snake, but Nagini was putty in Riddle's hands.

Cassius was nothing if not observant and he could understand his friend's desire to worship and look up to Riddle. Even though he lacked Abraxas' ability to judge people and sense magic, Cassius made a great spy.

Riddle's trunk and other belongings were warded heavily with spells he doubted even the seventh graders knew. Cassius would know, since four people had been sent to the hospital wing already, attempting to tamper with Riddle's stuff.

Cassius had also seen Riddle do wandless magic. He didn't do it often and only when he thought there weren't any people around. He didn't show even a scrap of his true talent when there were people, playing the innocent, poor, but lucky orphan. Although, Riddle topped all his classes, anyways. He only needed to do any spell once before he mastered it, his potions were very much precise and he was only one step behind Eileen Prince in terms of ability, which was saying something because the Prince family were renowned for their talent in potions.

Many people thought Riddle was incredibly lucky since he got away from all and any attempts at humiliation and harm unscathed. Usually, the instigators of these incidents were also caught or had their plot somehow backfire on them, but not many caught on, too caught up in their denial.

Cassius was just glad that he wasn't one of these people. He was nowhere near strong enough to go against Riddle nor was he bold enough.

None of them should be.

* * *

Harry really couldn't believe it, but he was annoyed. Annoyance was something that he hadn't felt in a long time because mostly, things like this are amusing when you've lived for so long. He was almost tempted to just give up on being a Dark Lord and be a healer instead if it meant that he wouldn't have to deal with these people. He almost admired Tom Riddle (as in the Tom Riddle that wasn't him) for enduring his road to power.

There was only so much stupidity, cowardliness, and unjustified arrogance that one could take before they snapped and _Crucio_ 'ed someone.

Luckily for certain people, Harry wasn't someone who would do that. At least, not at this stage. He hadn't earned their respect yet, and they hadn't earned his. Well, except for Abraxas. Something told him that the Malfoy was rather smart and talented.

It was only the fact that it would just be odd to quit before he finished coupled with the fact that _They_ apparently wanted him to do this that he endured.

Harry was so very bored. And that was mainly what was annoying him, actually.

He had been sneered at, ignored, pranked (not that it succeeded) and a target for humiliation, however unsuccessful those attempts were. Other than that though, no one had actually confronted him. The first and second years were now terrified of him and the rest never went for direct confrontation as long as he stayed away from them. It seemed that they didn't deem him important enough to be dealt with. Even though he was top in every single class. Of course, he made sure not to be too good at things and didn't reveal his ability for wandless, wordless and motionless magic at all.

If that was the case, then Harry would have to push them a little. He didn't like being looked down upon.

That was what he was doing, currently lounging upon the very best armchair in the common room. The younger Slytherins were staying far from him some looking smug that there was sure to be a direct confrontation that would finally send him packing, others looking scared because they weren't ready to witness violence or that they were just scared of Harry. Abraxas was looking concerned for him because even though Abraxas' family had power and people expected him to become the next top dog, he wasn't very close to the top of the hierarchy currently and wasn't allowed in one of these chairs unless he was ready to fight and win for it.

Which Harry was.

"Riddle," a voice finally hissed with poorly concealed anger.

Harry hummed a little and looked up from Nagini who was mostly hidden under his robes. Four teens, Caesar Carrow, Nero Jugson, Glenwood Selwyn and Valerius Bulstrode, the elite in their little Slytherin society, were standing beside the chair, surrounding it and glaring down at him.

Harry slouched further into the comfy chair and smiled sweetly, making Carrow, the leader, twitch with annoyance. "Can I help you?"

A snarl came out of Bulstrode's mouth. "You little shit, get out of that chair!" He almost yelled.

"I'm sorry," Harry raised his eyebrows, "I didn't hear that, could you _be_ any louder?"

"Why you!" Bulstrode lurched forwards, his blue eyes angry. However, Carrow stopped him, placing a hand on his shoulder and glaring.

"What makes you think I shouldn't be in this chair?" Harry asked further.

"Mudblood, you aren't even worthy enough to kiss my boots," it was Carrow this time, "what makes you think you deserve to sit in my chair?"

"What makes you think _you_ deserve this chair that is currently in my possession?"

Carrow growled. "Don't you dare talk to me like that, Mudblood," he whipped out his wand, "Get out now and I'll let you go easy this time. Don't think that just because your academics is decent that you're so high and mighty. You're nothing but a speck of dirt."

"I could say the same to you, _inbred fool*_ ," Harry merely drawled, smirking. He could see the vein jumping on Carrow's head.

"Why you little!" The teen roared, beyond angry that Harry would dare talk to him like that. He brandished his wand at Harry, a curse at the tip of his tongue.

But Harry was already prepared. " _Nagini, incapacitate him!_ " He hissed.

The female snake moved lightning fast, twisting around Carrow in a tight bind, and Carrow's spell died on his lips when he came face to face with the angry six foot snake. His face paled drastically as the coils around his neck began to tighten and his breaths came out in desperate gasps. Harry smiled slightly. He had been steadily pushing his magic into his familiar, making her stronger, faster than she already was.

" _How dare you even consider hurting my master, puny little wizard!_ " The snake hissed with the fury of a mother protecting her young, " _You aren't even as significant as the mice I hunt!_ "

Carrow was becoming blue at an alarming rate, Nagini's anger overriding her judgement. The other three had backed off at the sight of the obviously very magical and very dangerous snake.

They were confused, Harry deducted. It was obvious. They had thought that they were attacking a defenseless Muggleborn, but, in reality, they were poking a sleeping dragon. A sleeping dragon that may or may not be able to communicate with snakes. They had, obviously, heard and seen him hiss, they were just needing time to process it.

" _Nagini, be careful, he's very fragile, after all. We wouldn't want him to die on us. It would cause trouble,_ " Harry hissed, the words falling from his lips silkily. Immediately, Nagini loosened her hold so that she wasn't crushing Carrow's windpipe. The teen staggered and gasped for air, trying desperately to stay on his feet. The other three were staring at him now and just about everyone else, too. They had all gone silent when the confrontation started and his hissed words had the same effect as shouting.

Everyone had heard.

Harry smirked a little.

Good.

" _Nagini, force him to his knees._ "

Nagini jerked her body towards Harry and tightened her grip momentarily, bringing Carrow crashing to his knees.

"Now," Harry said quietly, inwardly sighing at the fact that he had to do something like this, "Say you're sorry..."

Carrow just growled and glared up at him, anger written in every feature. No one dared to help him.

Harry glared back, annoyed.

There was a crack and a chocked scream and Carrow gasped in pain as his wrist was broken by an invisible force.

"We can do this the hard way or the easy way. Say, 'I'm sorry, please forgive me.' I think you can do it. You can't be _that_ stupid, after all." Harry didn't feel much remorse for what he had done. Carrow should've recognized the danger, Harry was giving off a rather strong magical aura after all and Carrow was a Slytherin. He had let all his magic out to play, allowing it to dance teasingly through the air, captivating everyone.

Carrow stuttered something but it was too quiet to hear.

"What was that? Look at me when you speak, Carrow," Harry murmured, fiddling with a lock of his hair.

Carrow was unable to make eye contact with Harry when he looked up, but Harry could see the new emotion in his eyes, fear. But there was also a certain insanity in them and a giddy respect directed towards him, not unlike the look Abraxas had given him on the train. It was probably a side effect of his magic and Harry didn't really like that look. It was too unstable and reminded him of a certain Lestrange all too much.

When Carrow spoke, he was breathless and stuttered through the sentence, apologizing almost mindlessly.

"Good. _Nagini, you can let him go now_ ," Harry hissed. Nagini spat out another threat, getting a flinch in return, and slithered around his neck, smugness radiating from her. Harry then stood and walked back to his dormitory without another word, leaving the common room in stunned silence. He would finish his book there.

_That wasn't so bad, was it, little master?_

By the second day, most of the Slytherins avoided him like the plague.

* * *

Horace Slughorn never thought he would be so eager to attend a staff meeting ever. He was quite the materialistic man and loved socializing with all sorts of people. He was a collector and enjoyed watching the students he had tutored grow into powerful, influential people. Thusly, he quite enjoyed the staff meetings where he would listen about his students' achievements in other classes. But he had never been this eager.

The reason for his eagerness was because of one student called Tom Riddle.

Tom was a delightful student with a great ability for brewing precise and powerful potions. The boy had much magical potential and his magic sometimes bled into his potions without him realizing, enhancing his potions' effect. The young boy was also infinitely polite and, despite his apparent Muggleborn status, well versed in pureblood traditions and ways. The grace with which he walked, his mannerisms, the way he talked... It was all like how a pureblood heir would act. Tom was also already forming connections outside Slytherin. Just the other day, he had found Tom having a pleasant conversation with Charlus Potter. Which was odd because Charlus, while polite and at peace with just about everyone, was very guarded against most Slytherins and didn't really become friendly with them until after knowing them for a long time.

Yesterday morning though, was when he really saw the potential in Tom. He had just walked in form breakfast when he realized that the seating arrangement on the Slytherin table had changed. And Tom was sitting right in the middle, the other students giving him a wide berth. Not long afterwards, Abraxas Malfoy and Cassius Lestrange had seated themselves on either side of Tom and not long after that, Carrow and his group, the leaders of Slytherin, had seated themselves opposite Riddle with a little hesitation. That was a great difference from the indifference they had shown Tom before and it all changed overnight.

Horace was sure Tom would become a very great wizard in the future, he just needed confirmation from his fellow colleagues.

"Ah, Horace," the door opened and in walked Albus Dumbledore. "First to arrive, I see."

"Albus," Horace returned a jovial smile, putting down the potions book he had been reading, "You're rather early yourself! Usually, you are the last one here, Albus."

"Yes, you see, I accidentally set my alarm an hour early today and had nothing to do. So, I decided to come here early." Albus took out a bowl from who knows where and popped a candy into his mouth. He then offered one to Horace. "Licorice Snap?"

"Sure," Horace took the offered candy and chew it absentmindedly.

It wasn't long after that the rest of the staff arrived.

"So," Armando Dippet, the headmaster began, "Have there been any problems in class?"

"Not really," Dumbledore said, "This year's new students are surprisingly docile."

"And the students that aren't are mainly the same old," Galatea Merrythought chimed in.

"I suspect a quiet year this year," Silvanus Kettleburn muttered, sounding pleased.

"Even though Weasley and Carrow are still going at it?" Herbert Beery asked, amusement tinting his voice.

"At least Potter has gone from instigator to mediator recently," Kettleburn growled.

"Yes, he is, at least, taking the NEWTs seriously just as he did with the OWLs. He has a lot of potential, that one," Horace added.

"What about the first years, then?" Dippet asked, steering the topic away. "Any one promising?"

At once, Horace could see most of the staff's eyes lighting up.

"Oh yes! That Tom Riddle! He's practically a Defense prodigy!" Merrythought added, looking proud, "He's never gotten less than Outstanding on his essays and mastered every spell so far with ease!"

"I dare say there will be another an animagus running around soon," Dumbledore chortled jovially, "Riddle has performed outstandingly in Transfiguration."

"He's got a green thumb, too," Beery added, "He'd make the perfect Prince Charming in the next Christmas play!"

"His charms are simply marvolous!"

"That boy sure can fly. If he became a professional Quidditch player, I wouldn't be surprised."

"Really? He seems like a very talented boy... I do hope he'll be interested in Ancient Runes!"

"And Arithmancy!"

"I wonder if he's a seer...?"

"Horace, do you have anything else to add about Riddle? You are his head of house, after all," Dippet said, turning everyone's attention to Horace.

Horace smiled, smug that Riddle had been sorted into his house. "That boy will sure go far. There isn't a thing he isn't talented at. His potions are perfectly done and he knows his theory well. He's such an incredibly polite, intelligent and nice boy, I'm almost surprised that he's in my house!" Horace gave a jovial laugh at this point. "He has gotten his housemates and students from other houses to warm up to him greatly. Why, I saw him joking with Charlus Potter the other day. He's earned his house's respect and that's nothing to laugh at. We Slytherins do tend to be a bit, well, you know..."

Horace had really struck gold this time.

Riddle really was the model student.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry visits Death.

As much as he acted like nothing was wrong, something was.

It was wrong, odd, strange. Too many things didn't add up.

His eyes narrowed as he thought back to that meeting. The innocently angelic demeanor, the poor clothing, the nothing special magical power. Where was that now? It must have been a mask. Slytherins were known for their masks after all. Their deceit, their power play, their manipulations. They were the masters of the political battlefield, the snakes that hid in the grass, ready to strike.

He had come in with the high quality robes, that sweeping charisma that was so, so similar to him - no. He couldn't think about that man. That man that was once like the yin to his yang.

Eyebrows furrowed, Albus sighed as he rubbed his temples.

He was a coward.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was a coward.

He wasn't the happy-go-lucky middle aged wizard he portrayed himself to be. Well, not entirely, anyhow. He knew his own power, and what a power he had! He knew his magical ability exceeded Gellert's and, if he could just _stop bring such a coward_ , the Wizarding World might just be free from his once best friend's clutches.

He acted like nothing was wrong around young Tom Riddle, too afraid to approach, too cowardly to face someone so alike to Gellert. Too afraid of failure to even _try_ -!

Everything about the boy reminded him of Gellert. The way he walked, the way he talked, the way his charisma just shined. His magical ability, Albus had obviously underestimated that, was alike to Gellert, too. Strong, blindingly so, when he used it. Perhaps even stronger.

Which was why Albus knew he had to help. But he couldn't. Because he was a coward.

Slumping down into his seat, he crumpled up the letter on his desk and, in a rare show of frustration, set it on fire, watching the words burn.

_Dear Albus,_

_How have you been recently? It's been a while since we've talked, or even written to each other, no? I'm sure you know how I've been doing. After all, I didn't give up on our dream. A dream that you abandoned along with me._

_Sincerely, Gellert Grindelwald_

* * *

Slytherin really was very different from Gryffindor. Despite the confrontation he had with Carrow, the common room was peaceful. He hadn't really stayed and just people watched in a while, preferring the solitude of his dorm, and now that he had, he could see how Slytherin really worked.

Everyone was talking, but not loudly like in Gryffindor.

No, it was like some sort of high class party. The boys talked quietly with each other and the girls gossiped and bantered. All of it was very dignified. There were no people play fighting or jumping around. The most there was, was a playful punch or two or someone grumbling over homework.

It was odd... But an oddly welcome change.

He made a humming sound at that and shifted in his seat slightly.

Immediately, there was a silence that spread in a five meter radius around him before the quiet chatter returned. His eyebrow twitched.

Okay, that was rather annoying.

Every single time he shifted or made a sound of discomfort, everyone near him would go quiet as if afraid to make the wrong move. Or even as if waiting for him to make some sort of prophecy. It had been happening ever since the confrontation.

No one, apart from Abraxas who had come to thank him for the book publicly and Carrow's group to acknowledge his superiority, dared to approach him.

The Slytherins were getting boring... And Harry didn't really know how to fix that.

Maybe he shouldn't have been so harsh on Carrow?

No. Carrow was being an idiot back then. He had every right to subjugate him.

But what should he do next? How should he proceed?

To be totally honest, Harry hadn't a clue. Sure, he had spent ages at the orphanage complementing on wether or not he should go with the whole dark lord idea, but he had never actually made a plan of action. He had just sort of... Jumped into it blindly, really.

He snorted at the thought, ignoring the discomfort of the Slytherins around him.

To think that after who knows how many lifetimes of the Sorting Hat trying to convince him he'd make a great Slytherin, he'd agree, only to realize that his action, going to Slytherin, would count as Gryffindor-ish.

If that wasn't ironic, then he wasn't sure what was.

He blinked blankly.

Wow. In his infinite, holy awesomeness as the Master of Death, he had actually completely neglected to think up a game plan.

(Although that was hardly unusual, it was rather idiotic considering what he aspired to be in this life)

Harry cursed his Gryffindorness and sighed.

Oh well, he guessed that this meant he was going with the flow and relying on improvisation once more. He couldn't really do much as a first year, anyways.

But first... Some divine help wouldn't go amiss, would it...?

* * *

It was amazing, stunning, absolutely breathtaking.

The wood was obviously old, worn, but the power it radiated was nothing to laugh about.

But he laughed anyways, albeit bitterly, but trying to sound triumphant.

The Elder Wand. It finally, _finally_ belonged to him.

Him. Gellert Grindlewald.

Not Albus Dumbledore or that fool, Gregorovitch, but him, Gellert Grindlewald.

And with this small victory, that was really not small at all, he should feel triumphant. He should be giddy. He should be laughing maniacally at his success. In his plans, in his dreams.

But he wasn't, he didn't.

Why? Because there was a small voice in the back of his head saying how Dumbledore should be here, right beside him, celebrating the retrieval of the Elder Wand with him.

He grimaced, disgusted by his weakness.

The nearly sixty year old wizard gave a slight sigh. He couldn't deny that he and Albus had been close before, even if he didn't reciprocate the other's romantic feelings. But, even so, there should be absolutely no reason for his wish that Albus was still here, beside him.

If he wanted to move on, he'd have to let go. The Elder Wand was his now, and no one else's.

And soon, the Wizarding world will follow. Then all will be right again.

It was then that he returned his attention to the wand in his hands, which had begun to vibrate. Unsure of what this symbolized, he watched with a mixture of awe and apprehension.

If it weren't for his careful study of the wand, he may have dismissed the sudden glow as a part of his imagination, for in the next second, he found himself knocked over by a tidal wave of power.

He drew in a shaky breath and stood, slowly, feeling weak from what had just occurred. There was more to this wand than he first thought. For some reason... It felt sentient.

* * *

Harry was never sure what, exactly, death wanted him to do.

He knew what he wanted. Oh yes, and that was to rest. He'd been alive for too long, seen too much and he just wanted peace. But his blasted title wouldn't give him that. When he had first 'died', he had met Death himself. And, being a bastard, Death told him no. He couldn't die, not just yet.

Sometimes, Death would speak with him when he was among the living. Just a little voice in his head, giving him advice or intel that he needed. However, if he really wanted to talk to the bastard, Harry would have to enter what he now called a 'Death Trance'. Reason? Well, for all intents and purposes, he was dead during a Death Trance. He didn't breath, didn't move, it was really like he had died. But, since he couldn't die, he could come back to the world of the living at anytime he wished.

This was what he was doing now.

After warding his bunk, not that anyone would dare bother him anyway (but you could never be too careful), he settled down as if to go to sleep. There was no point in coming back with a sore neck and stiff joints, after all, when he could achieve the same ends in a position more comfortable than those meditative ones he thought he had to use at first (and, bastard that he was, Death never corrected him on his assumptions).

It was difficult describing what it felt like to enter a Death Trance. It really, really was.

He didn't feel the sense of peace that people described they felt during meditation nor did he feel like he was dying, as you would expect. No, it was, like the first time he had died, like going to sleep suddenly and just spontaneously realizing you were definitely not where you had gone to sleep earlier.

He pushed up off the floor from his sleeping position, blinking rapidly as King's Cross Station materialized before his eyes. Thinking of what he wanted, Harry was relived when clothing appeared on his naked body. No matter how used to this he was, he always felt a sense of relief when he was clothed after waking up naked. The first few times he didn't feel as embarrassed, he was, after all, dead. But once he had gotten used to the this place, he began to treat his metaphysical body like his physical one and much preferred having clothing to wear.

He stood and looked to the scarlet train, The Hogwarts Express. It was the only splash of color in what was now a white, colorless train station. And, as always, standing in front of the only open door like some sort of demented doorkeeper, was Death.

Death's appearance had surprised him the first time and would never fail to do the same no matter how many times he came here.

It wasn't so much the black and red police uniform, nor was it the gold cloak, but instead it was the accessories. Considering the fact that this was Death, one would've expected a skull, here and there. And Harry did. Yet he was still surprised at his assumption being right, for the mask Death wore was that of the skull of a ram. Death's Avada Kedavera colored eyes glowed from within the dark eye sockets on the skull.

As Death turned its head towards him and, for the first time, Harry realized that the style Death wore his dark hair was somewhat similar to how Tom Marvolo Riddle (in other words, Harry himself) had his hair done. Right after he made that connection though, Harry had the feeling that he was connecting dots where there were none. There were a lot of differences after all, but despite the fact that Death's hair reached half way down his torso, their fringes matched and so did the way their hair parted. There wasn't a single tangle to be seen and their hair both curled similarly. He couldn't be completely sure though, due to the black, withering flowers that were knotted into the left side of Death's hair next to the edge of the mask.

Death was significantly taller than Harry, who's metaphysical body was that of Harry Potter's seventeen year old one, like the first time Harry had come to this place. It always somewhat irked him to notice their height difference, even if it was completely illogical to be annoyed by the height of a divine and immortal being.

Absently, Harry wondered if he would reach Death's towering height of one eighty something in his new body as he approached.

"One point eight two meters, master, that's how tall I am," Death commented, an amused glint in his eyes. Harry felt himself twitch in annoyance. Somehow, Death could always read him, not even needing _Legilimency_ to do so. Yet, as Death's master, Harry couldn't do the same. "The mind isn't a book to be read, master," came Death's unneeded parroting of Harry's once most hated professor.

"I know." Harry eyed the immortal being in front of him and then the doorway behind Death that led onto the Hogwarts Express. He knew that it was his way to eternal rest, yet Death never let him pass, no matter what Harry said or did. "You'll never let me pass, will you?" Harry asked, resigned to getting the same answer as he always did.

"I won't let you pass, master, not yet, but rest assured that this door is for you and you only, master. I'm a diligent doorkeeper, master. I'm sorry, but you can't go through just yet," came the expected answer. "It is not your time. The requirements haven't been met. But when that time comes, you will be let through."

"And when, pray tell, will that time come?"

Harry then got the vague impression that Death was smiling as the being reached for a silver chain hanging from his pocket and tugged out a silver pocket watch. "Soon, my master, soon."

Harry narrowed his eyes. There was definitely something that Death wasn't telling him. "Why can't you just tell me what you want me to do?" He asked, voice bordering on a snarl as his irritation swelled. "You're always telling me the same things, over and over again."

The silver pocket watch was placed carefully back into Death's pocket and Death tilted his head, ram horns catching a nonexistent sunlight and gleaming dangerously. Harry stood under the being's scrutiny, glaring back at his supposed servant. "Have I not helped you?" The voice, a rasping whisper, was so quiet that Harry started. "I speak to you, do I not? I guide you, master, and I've told you that your getting closer." Death leaned towards him and Harry couldn't help but pull away slightly. "The only way for you to come into the Realm of the Dead permanently is for you to experience the power you have, the power of being alive and reject that power. Reject all that life has to offer and, only then, can you stay." Death drew back and Harry released the breath he didn't know he had been holding. "I believe it is time for you to return, master. Farewell."

Harry huffed in annoyance but relented, letting himself be pulled back into his physical body.

He blinked open his eyes and narrowed them thoughtfully, ignoring the discomfort from his transition over the boundaries of dead and living.

He turned his head and waved the curtains around his bed open, dispelling the wards. There was sunlight coming from the magical windows in the dorms. It was time to get up.

* * *

Abraxas shivered as he awoke, feeling an uncomfortable chill in the dorms. He frowned. Why was it so cold? It shouldn't be so cold, not with all the heating charms layered into the very bricks that built up the Slytherin dormitories.

He held in a whimper as he scrambled to get up, an irrational fear creeping into him.

There was something wrong here. Oh so very wrong.

The chill was crawling up his spine, through his rib age and into his throat. He could feel it.

It was restricting his breath, causing him to pant shallowly. He could see his breath condensing in the air but that was all wrong because the dorms were warm. They were meant to be warm!

He kicked his covers off, the soft, silkily blankets suddenly feeling disgusting and constricting. He... He had to get out of here!

Yanking back the curtains around his bed, he jumped off and looked around. And then, the air suddenly didn't feel so suffocating anymore. He took a deep breath to compose himself and it was then that he realized that there was sunlight. Morning had come.

Riddle's bed was empty. Had the other already left? No one else was up yet. A quick Tempus spell confirmed the time to be 7:21. Classes didn't start till nine, but this was as good as any time to get up, he supposed.

But what was all that before about?

He huffed a bit and walked to the bathroom. It was time to get presentable. Not that he was ever unpresentable, but a little pampering wouldn't do any harm.

He looked into the mirror and jumped. Merlin did he look horrible, as if he hadn't had a good night's sleep in years, there were bags under his eyes and he was pale. His hair was in an absolute disarray. It would take ages to make himself presentable, but he might as well start now.

Several minutes later, there was a banging on the door and someone called at him to hurry up. Abraxas glared a little at the door, but sighed and relented, having gotten at least decent looking. He pushed open the door and was surprised to find everyone else looking just as bad he did.

He glanced at Riddle's bed. He had the feeling that the only one who would look well rested today would be the unnaturally powerful first year.

He was right. Everyone else in all of Hogwarts looked like they were ready to drop down dead, no matter how well they covered up their sleepless appearances.

What in Merlin's name had happened last night?


End file.
